


Mourning Star

by rabid_bunny



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Lucifer - Freeform, M/M, SebaCiel - Freeform, hot devil sexy time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabid_bunny/pseuds/rabid_bunny
Summary: Every single muscle, every cell within Ciel’s body, every inch of his soul - it stood still. There was nothing. But Him.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Mourning Star

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to Chromehoplite who dual commissioned me and my lovely monster QWC. You can view the artwork he did [here](https://rabiid-bunny.tumblr.com/post/642665593567395840/mourning-star) on tumblr. Mr. Cat also edited the Hell out of this to make it even more special. Please enjoy.

Ciel turned the page of his newspaper. The Manchester Guardian never provided much entertainment in the early hours of the day. Then again, little ever did. He took another bite of his mulberry fritter, setting it back upon the china and dusting crumbs from his fingers. There wasn’t enough earl grey in London to wake him up. No matter how many cubes of sugar he dropped into the delicate, blue rimmed porcelain cup. He folded the paper and placed it on the edge of the table. The breakfast spread before him had barely been touched when he scooted his chair back. 

A maid, whose name escaped him, bowed as she approached the table. He couldn’t recall any of the staff's names. Had it been practical, he would've been living alone. Alas, such a large manor had to be tended to. He finished his tea, letting the crystalized sugar at the base of the cup coat his tongue before swallowing. He left the maid to the mess of a perfectly untouched array of meats, cheeses and egg danishes. More important matters called for his immediate attention.

Polished shoes tapped against the checkered marble of the foyer floor as he ascended the stairs. No matter how many times he did it, Ciel was certain he’d never get used to the lengthy walk to his father’s - now his - study. The halls welcomed his presence with their specific decor and aesthetic he’d chosen years prior. The lavish paintings and wallpaper had long since blurred into a dull haze, as had most things in his life. The hall could go on for hours, centuries, and he wouldn’t change his pace in the least. He might’ve followed it down to the entrance of Hell without realizing he’d come so far. Bored with his thoughts, Ciel sat at his desk and turned his attention to the first matter of the day.

He fiddled with the sapphire ring upon his thumb, watching the light cast flecks of blue across his paperwork. It was beautiful, he thought, the way light refracted off the gem and seemed to buzz around his desk. Like liquid azure shadows convening from the same place. Everyone’s shadow had to be what they made it, he pondered. Different textures, different colors, different tastes. Like a sneak peak of their soul. 

Ciel removed his ring and placed it in the drawer of his desk. He couldn’t be distracted this morning. He picked up his pen and began.

* * *

Bleak and overcast were never out of place descriptors for London’s weather. No matter the season, be it early fall or the dead of winter, a gloom could overtake the city without surprise. The clouds that rolled in that late December were paid no mind. The city was shadowed, casting the town in a premature evening. Gusts of wind whistled between buildings and brushed clusters of snow along cobblestone. Folks held their hats on their heads as they rushed to be clear of the oncoming storm. Crystaled ice fragments began to fill the air, though they did not fall. The fractals, easily mistaken for snow, appeared, crackling in tiny flakes as the sky grew darker. 

The grounds of the Phantomhive manor had been mostly cleared of snowfall, giving way to visiting business men that favored an afternoon stroll. Ciel watched the dark clouds from the parlor window. They contorted and twisted, funneling into one central point. A flash of lightning reflected within his azure eyes.

“Ahem,” a gentleman behind him urged. “Earl, if I may make an observation, you seem an ounce distracted.”

“No. Not distracted.” Ciel eyed the clouds one last time before turning to face his guest. “Dreadfully bored, Sir Gregor.”

The bushy-haired man scoffed, “The nerve of you, Phantomhive. Though you’ve grown, your attitude has yet to change from when you first took hold of your title.”

“Are we here to discuss my earldom or the business you wish to do with it?” Ciel moved to a set of chairs across from each other and open handedly insisted his guest sit. Once obliged, he smoothed the front of his emerald suit jacket and sat. “I’ve managed to control the Phantomhive foundations for nearly a decade, I hardly think my attitude should be up for assessment. A drink, Sir Gregor?” 

A servant in the far corner of the room approached with a glass decanter filled with golden bourbon. He waited quietly for an order.

“Er, no thank you. May I smoke?” Gregor reached into the inside of his jacket to retrieve a small, rectangular case.

“What a disgusting habit,” Ciel mumbled to himself. He cleared his throat, “No.” 

Gregor, taken aback by the denial, removed the unlit cigar from his mouth. His eyes flicked to the servant, searching for confirmation before they returned to his business partner. Well, potential business partner. They had hardly gotten to discuss business since he’d arrived. Though he remembered time and time again how Phantomhive handled his affairs, he always hoped his attitude would change. He was to always be met with disappointment. 

“I’ve heard your proposal and to be perfectly honest, I need some time to think it over. I’ve more pressing matters to attend to.”

Gregor looked at him incredulously, “This meeting has been planned for over a month.”

“And now it’s over.” Ciel stood and motioned to the servant, “Please show Sir Gregor out. If he has anything more to add, kindly tell him to request a future appointment.”

Disgruntled, Gregor stood, swinging his meaty hands around as he grumbled, “This is no way to treat your fellow men, Phantomhive! I don’t care _who_ you are.”

“Could you remind Sir Gregor of his scarf draped upon the banister in the foyer?” Ciel spoke aloud as he exited the parlor, “A storm is brewing and I’d hate for him to catch a cold.”

* * *

The manor had settled, the maids and servants off to their quarters and the grounds closed off for the night. Still, a candle persisted. Ciel watched the flame reflect against a window of the downstairs sunroom. He contemplated the persistence of warmth though surrounded by frigid temperatures. Frost lined the glass that looked out towards the rose-filled greenhouse. He touched the window before recoiling. It stung, biting into his fingertips for the mere second he’d made contact.

He clutched his cup of warmed, sweetened milk, soothing his fingers around the base. Ciel sat alone in the darkness, save for the one candle, as he enjoyed his late night drink. The warmth from within the manor was a stark contrast to the crisp air beyond the glass. He’d stripped down to shirt sleeves, unbuttoned to mid chest to welcome the touch of cool air brushing against his skin. Through his black trousers that were pressed down the leg fronts, a winter chill grasped at his limbs.

It was often that the earl found himself up at late hours. When he was a boy, he’d retire to his bedchamber at a reasonable hour, only to pounce back up from insomnia some time later. He’d traverse the dark halls to the kitchen to fetch the same drink he had before him. Now, he hardly kidded himself. There was no point getting into bed at a reasonable hour if he’d simply return downstairs in an attempt to quell his restlessness.

The window rattled with a wild gust of wind. Ciel clutched the cup to him tighter, peering out into the darkness. The clouds had opened up, just enough for a peek at the moon, yet they still billowed out above the manor. He gasped when he saw it, nearly letting his drink slip out of his grasp. If only for a moment, his eyes caught it, he was sure. If he had blinked, it certainly would’ve been missed. He rose from his seat and rushed to the main entryway. From a closet towards the east wing, he fetched a fur lined coat and threw it over his shoulders before bolting out the door. The wind whipped across his face as he stopped on the stoop.

It was _warm._

He rubbed the tips of his fingers, remembering the bite the window’s frost had given them not long before. Strange, that the air felt like a warm Summer’s eve. He tossed his coat on the doorstep before running out into the night. 

Watching the sky as he turned west, his foot fumbled on an unearthed cobblestone. He fell with a grunt, his clothes immediately becoming soaked through. Water? Ciel looked around at the soggied landscape. The snowfall on the entire foreground of the manor had melted. Beyond the gate, he squinted to see the white gleam of frozen roads. He raised up, slicking back wet hair as he continued to the greenhouse. 

Upon turning the corner of the manor to approach the west end fields, Ciel froze. The windows of the greenhouse, every panel, had shattered. Glistening shards of glass sparkled across the ground around the garden. How could that not have made a sound? His curiosity was only fueled as he cautiously approached. By the time he’d reached the door, his lungs were angered and swollen. He clutched at his chest, calming his heart rate as he took a steady inhale. It was the last one he’d get for some time.

Lightning, red and righteous, ripped through the air. It sizzled in hot, wrathful cracks, barely missing Ciel’s body but throwinging him to the ground from it’s blistering intensity. Ciel grunted and rose to his feet while dusting his clothes free of glass shards. The scent of scorched earth muddled with liquid metal wafted about. Still at the door that had been torn from its frame, Ciel gripped his chest tighter. The air had become thick with heat, stagnant and sticky. He placed an arm over his face, wiping away sweat as his curiosity led him further into the greenhouse. 

White petals, singed at the tips, rained down with ash and dust. One came to brush Ciel’s face and settle on his shoulder. The rose bushes that he’d been so fond of were mostly soot whispers of the plush velveteen they’d been. Their sweet, sickly scent filled the air in an overwhelming rush from the heat. Ciel put an arm over his nose and mouth as he stepped closer to the center of the greenhouse.

In the still air, fluttering down amidst the petals were...feathers? Ciel bent down and picked one up. Feathers, indeed. As black as desolation. He twirled it between his fingers and closed the distance between himself and a mess of corpsed rose shrubs torn from their roots. The center of the greenhouse was now home to a massive indent surrounded by blackened twigs and scorched earth. He grabbed hold of one of the thorny bushes with the intention of moving it to see what could possibly have—

“Ah, Hell,” he snatched his hand back, sticking a pricked finger into his mouth. In a snap decision, he began to unbutton his shirt to help cushion his hands with his new task. A crack of a branch coming from the center of the concave stopped his fingers as they approached the last button. Ciel took a step back at the second crack. Then there was another. And another. Slowly, he began to retreat toward the entrance when the vines within the impacted earth flew into the sky. He shielded himself with an arm as they crashed down all around him, falling back onto the ground. Calm, he reminded himself. He couldn’t imagine how much more his lungs could take. When the last thorned vine fell from above, he cautiously lifted his arm from his eyes. 

What shock.

There, within the ruins of the western rose greenhouse, stood a being. Ciel squinted. A man? Tall and shadowed, he stood like a statue surrounded by an ominous haze of black. He was nude to Ciel’s sudden shamefulness. Dark strands of hair pooled at his shoulders and cascaded down his sculpted chest. His arms, strong and unmoving, faded from alabaster to black at the forearm, as if dipped in tar. Sharp talon-like claws jutted out from each finger and, too, moved none. He stood there, in perfect stillness, like the gods of antiquity, in beauty and awe and depth and passion and plastered pain. Confused, Ciel touched a tear at the corner of his eye. The creature, in turn, opened his. 

Crimson. His eyes - electric fire, red and stifling and full of anger - landed on Ciel. The earl could do nothing but stare. His heart hammered and the pain from cuts and scrapes on his body were all but non-existent. The breath within his lungs was no longer needed. He held it in so as not to distract him. Every single muscle, every cell within Ciel’s body, every inch of his soul - it stood still. There was nothing. But Him.

Black feathers rustled about the air as two immeasurable wings shot out from the creature’s back. They flapped once, throwing an air so violent ahead that Ciel had to cover his face from thorns once more. Instead of broken bits of bushes, Ciel’s arm was bombarded with splatters of a warm liquid. A deep growl, ghastly and bone chilling, filled the night as the creature fell back within the hole. 

Ciel dabbed at the liquid on his arm. Within the weak light of the moon he could make out the unmistakable shade of blood. He felt his arm under his opened shirt. No cuts there. Quickly, he stood, charging forward into the hole. He easily fought through the few broken rose bushes there before reaching the being at the center. There, on his knees, sat the dark creature. Ciel lost his breath again when their eyes met. He shook his head, steadying his mind in the thick heat so he could concentrate on the situation at hand.

“I don’t know who you are or what you are,” he shuffled his soiled button-up off as quickly as he could, “but you’re hurt. Badly.” He tore his shirt in two, making to move to the creature's wings when a loud growl shook the ground.

“Enough!” Ciel yelled back, hardly keeping himself upright. “I am trying to help you.”

The growl ceased. Crimson eyes glowing in the darkness appraised him. They scaled Ciel, sending shivers over the earl’s body as they went from his head to his toes and back. With a huff, a limp wing came towards Ciel and settled on the ground before him. After a few moments, Ciel cautiously ripped himself away from the glare and lowered to his knees. 

In sopping globs, blood poured from a bone beneath a sea of feathers. Ciel gingerly moved the soft down aside, relying on touch to find the gash. Warmth spilled over his hands, oozing out and sullying them in the moonlight. Quickly, he wrapped the first strip of shirt around the humerus of the wing. A growl, this time tinged with pain, filled the night. 

“Hush now, I’m nearly done.” With a grunt, Ciel knotted off his shirt over the gash. It quickly colored with blood but it was better than nothing. He tied the second half of his shirt over it as well and sighed from the effort of it all.

“It’s impossible to assess the extent of your wounds out here in the darkness. We have to get you inside if you don’t want to die.”

The wounded wing suddenly receded, causing Ciel to fall onto his back. In a split second, red eyes hovered above his own. He was pinned. He could feel breath - both searing hot and frigid - graze his cheeks. A voice, deep and melodic accompanied by five others in harmony, pierced through Ciel’s skin and set his blood ablaze. 

“ **Ḧ̷͈́̒ ̵̧̥̂ u̸̱͖̓͝ ̴͎͛m̸̪̿ ̷͔̔ a̷͓̓̎ ̷̪̭̒̈́ ņ̸͎͌.̸̦̭̅** ”

Without thinking, Ciel lifted both hands to the creature's mouth and covered it. Crimson eyes stared back in surprise.

“S- sorry. It was an impulse.” Ciel moved his hands, their palms remembering the feel of cool, silk beneath them. He breathed out hard, “So, you can speak?”

The being exhaled through his nose and Ciel felt a rush of goosebumps bloom across his skin. Silky waves of frosted warmth brushed his face as six voices echoed throughout his bones. Though his ears could not make out what was being said, his eyes wept and his legs trembled upon the ground. A scent, of safety and of home, wrapped around his cheeks and caressed his thoughts with every inhale.

Through a clouded confusion of intimacy and pain, a labored whisper was all Ciel could manage. “I’ve a proper name and title, if you’re interested.”

When a breeze broke through the stagnant air, Ciel gasped as it brought back enough willpower for him to wriggle out from beneath the creature. Winter was returning and he was glad for it. “Ciel. Earl Ciel Phantomhive.”

The creature cocked it’s head and Ciel could feel invisible smoky tendrils of his aura snake around him. Neither of them moved and yet, they’d become only niches apart. Ciel shook his head and it was then that he realized the creature’s lips - set in a hard line - had never parted. Hair pricked at the back of his neck when he barely made out his name dripping sensually off of the being’s tongue.

“ **C̷͕̓ i̴̪ e̴̻̽ l̴͈̄ ̵̱̿P̵̩̾ h̷̹̒ a̵̩͝ n̶̫̒ t̴̬̕ ǒ̶̟ m̶̞̓ ẖ̸̉ i̶̳̎ v̷͍͑ ȇ̸̱.** ”

Ciel began to shiver in his half nude state, and though it was impossible, the creature came closer still. He swallowed and made to wet his lips but his mouth remained dry.

As if suddenly remembering something, the creature straightened. The tips of a wing brushed Ciel’s face as he stared skyward then back to the human at his side. His face, though still, screamed out in agony and torment. All of the stars - moons, universes that collided and black holes - coalesced within his rubied gaze. And it settled, deep and weighted, on Ciel. With a shuffle, he relaxed his wings and stood to tower a full two feet over the earl. He appraised him, tilting his head as he did so.

There it was again. The scent of something sickly sweet, of home. Ciel closed his eyes and when they reopened, the being was knelt before him. Like this, they were eye to eye, nose to nose, breath to shaky breath. A shiver crept up Ciel’s nude back as he felt the frost beneath his bare feet begin to return. With each second, the premature summer faded. And with every moment, Ciel fell deeper into the black and crimson abyss before him. 

Talons, razored and onyx, carefully graced the gentle line of Ciel’s jaw. A cold desolation and a pang - a need - for something greater, something more, was left upon his skin. Ciel shivered and clutched at the remaining whisper of heat he felt there.

“Dark creature,” his lips quivered about his words. “What are you?”

With a slight tilt of his head, black hair fell out of the being’s face. His lips parted and the night sighed around him as they did. Teeth, glistening and sharp with ravenous intent, gave way to a solitary name spoken in a singular voice that cracked through the air.

**“L U C I F E R.”**

**Author's Note:**

> Two chapters remain and they are already written. I do hope you enjoy.


End file.
